The Missing Chums by Franklin W. Dixon

would have asked your help on this one.”
    Frank and Joe looked perplexed. “But the bank robbery hadn’t happened then!” Joe protested.
    Mr. Hardy smiled briefly. “For some time I have been working secretly to round up a certain ring of bank robbers who operate on a national scale.”
    â€œI see,” said Frank. “And they committed the Bayport holdup?”
    â€œI believe so. It looks like their work. I’ve learned that the gang is broken up into a number of teams,” Mr. Hardy explained. “Somewhere on the West Coast is the ringleader who assigns each ‘team’ to rob a local bank in a different part of the country. The scheme is very well organized.”
    The boys went to bed, hoping to be disturbed by a call from the police, telling them good news, but none came. In the morning Joe called headquarters, then relayed a disappointing report to his family. “The police didn’t find Chet and Biff, but they picked up pieces of their costumes on piles of half-charred paper trash in different parts of Shantytown. Someone didn’t know the outfits were fireproof and tried to burn them.”
    â€œThen our pals were taken there and later moved somewhere else,” Frank declared. “But where?”
    He and Joe were so upset they could hardly eat breakfast. The other Hardys, who also were fond of Chet and Biff, were greatly sobered.
    â€œOh, I almost forgot something,” said Mrs. Hardy. “A letter came for you boys in this morning’s early mail.” She handed Frank a plain white envelope. “It’s postmarked Northport, yesterday.”
    Frank looked at it. “The writing is familiar,” he remarked, “but there’s no return address.”
    He tore open the envelope, took out a picture postcard, and scanned the message.
    Frank’s eyes widened. “Listen to this!” he exclaimed. “ ‘Having a wonderful time. Don’t worry about us.’ And it’s signed ‘Chet and Biff’!”
    The rest of the family stared in amazement. Aunt Gertrude snorted indignantly. “Having a wonderful time, indeed! Everyone worried sick, police searching all over the map for them, and they’re having a wonderful time!”
    â€œBut what a relief!” Mrs. Hardy said warmly. “I’ll call Mrs. Morton and—”
    â€œWait a minute,” Mr. Hardy cautioned. “It may not really be from the boys.”
    â€œThis is Chet’s handwriting,” Frank said.
    Joe had jumped from his chair to examine the card. “Yes, it is,” he affirmed. “The picture is of Waterfront Street in Northport. Looks like an old card,” he added, passing it to his father.
    â€œWhy do you think it was mailed in an envelope?” Mrs. Hardy asked, puzzled.
    â€œSo no one would read the message until it got here,” suggested Joe.
    â€œWhy didn’t they telephone?” Aunt Gertrude asked tartly. “It’s even quicker.”
    â€œI think they would if they could, Auntie,” Frank replied. “Chet and Biff know better than to worry everybody this way. They’re prisoners!”
    â€œAnyway, we know they’re alive,” said his mother. “That in itself is good news.”
    â€œWill you call Mrs. Hooper and Mrs. Morton and tell them?” Frank requested his mother. She nodded.
    â€œAnd I’ll notify the police,” Mr. Hardy added. “By the way, they looked for the thieves’ fingerprints on Chet’s jalopy and your motorboat, but didn’t find any.”
    â€œI suppose the robbers wore gloves,” Frank remarked.
    As Joe went back to his chair, he said, “I think we ought to run up to Northport and see if we can trace this card.”
    Mr. Hardy looked thoughtful. “The bank robbers stole their getaway car in Northport.”
    â€œAnd the fellow who tried to ram the Sleuth,” Frank added, “may have come down